


The Patient Hunter

by KeroZombie



Category: Rain World (Video Game)
Genre: Fandom Blind Friendly, Gen, International Fanworks Day 2021, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeroZombie/pseuds/KeroZombie
Summary: The pole plant does not hurry. The pole plant does not fear. But woe betide the creature that dares to draw too near.(The story isn't a poem dw ;D)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	The Patient Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I played Rain World, I've not been able to get its incredible setting out of my head. Playing the game is like being in an alien ecosystem, and that energy, that sense of being in the jungle, is what I hope to capture in this short story. I wrote it after being inspired by the International Fandom Day 2021 challenge, and also after reading some of the wonderful stories that already exist here, but if I have the time I'd really like to write more of these shorts from the perspectives of different Rain World wildlife. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy :)

The pole plant waits, and watches, dewdrops glistening on its metallic surface. The lizard is coming. It can feel it, feel its feet thundering through the tunnels that line the rusted pit in which the plant hides, surrounded by the machines of a long dead world. Behind the plant stands a chain link fence, where the green fingers of lesser flora stretch towards the cloud-smothered sky, straining for every last drop of light.

The pole plant has no need for fickle sunbeams. It is a carnivore, and in this world the carnivore is king.

Up above, a tunnel's lamp flickers, and a steaming snout intrudes upon the stillness. The pole plant is patient. To the untrained eye it is merely one of many rusted artifacts, nothing more. The lizard sniffs the ground, paws its way forward. Closer. Soon it'll be within reach.

Something stirs off to the side. The pole plant recognises the sensation. The little tremors of small, sticky feet. A slugcat. The lizard senses it too. It peers over the ledge. So close now. The pole plant can feel the beast's hot breath on its gnarled skin.

The lizard is stupid. It hisses, dives for the slugcat. But the slugcat is fast. It picks up a rock and tosses it at the lizard.

And misses. The rock clinks harmlessly off one of the grime-soaked walls. Despite itself the pole plant bristles. That was too close. But there is no hurry. It doesn't matter who wins out of the two unlucky visitors. Either one would make a good meal.

The lizard stomps towards the slugcat, teeth bared. But the slugcat is resourceful. The pole plant senses the danger before it happens, but there is no escape when you're rooted to the ground. A spear, half buried in the dirt. The lizard doesn't even register it, but the slugcat's sharp eyes miss nothing. It lifts the weapon from the earth and flings it at its attacker.

But the lizard, for all its stupidity, manages to leap out of the way.

With a wet _thwip_ the errant spear lodges itself in the pole plant's slender body. The plant writhes in pain, its blood red spines flaring out, ruining the illusion. The lizard is right next to it now, ripe for the picking, but it doesn't care. It wants the slugcat. It swings itself towards the white creature and is met with the sharp edge of a rock.

It reels back. Now the lizard knows, and it flees into the tunnels, out of reach. The slugcat digs up a second spear, but the pole plant doesn't give the pest the opportunity to finish what it started. Snapping its single claw, the pole plant drags itself back into its den like so much loose rope. For the pole plant knows there is always tomorrow. There will be another lizard. There will be another slugcat. They will come. They always do.

And when they do, the pole plant will be waiting.


End file.
